


You Had Me From Hello

by mskluver777



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Dancing, I will not apologize for Kenny Chesney, Kenny Chesney, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22673323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskluver777/pseuds/mskluver777
Summary: Wayne is walking near the barn late at night and hears a ruckus.
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	You Had Me From Hello

There was music coming from the barn. This was surprising to Wayne for a couple reasons, one being that everyone that lived on his property should be in bed already. He looked at his watch, squinting in the dim flood lights of the barn in question. The hands were at 11 and 9- 11:45 was way too late on a weeknight to be up listenin’ to music. There was chorin’ to be done early the next day. Wayne was only up to let Stormy out, but then he was headin’ straight to bed. Well, he would’ve if not for the fuckin’ de-gen causing a ruckus in his barn.

“Fuckin’ de-gens,” he spits on the ground, stomping out his dart as he does it. Then he strolls up to the barn, pullin’ open one of the big doors. Music and light cascade out, nearly blinding him with the abruptness. Blinking rapidly, he manages to see someone dancing in between the hay bales. After a few seconds, he realizes that it’s Darry, seemingly lost in his strange gyrating and oblivious to his presence. Wayne’s not even sure what kind of music is playing, but Darry is mouthing along to the lyrics, his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

Wayne stomps over to the old boom box that his dad always kept in the barn and turned down the music. Darry’s eyes pop open, startlin’ so bad he nearly falls over. “Wayne,” he croaks. “Didn’t see yas there.”

“What the Jesus H. are you doin’ there, Darry.” It’s clearly supposed to be a question, but Wayne uses no inflection. He has no patience left for Darry after all the shit he’s been pullin’ lately.

“Uhh, dancin’, Wayne. Thought that were obvious.” He’s got that confused puppy look on his face that Wayne always hates. “What are you doin’ over there, Big Shoots?”

“Wonderin’ what de-gen is keepin’ the whole farm up with his…” Wayne glares at the strange sounds comin’ from the boom box. “Music. If that screamin’ could be considered such.”

Now Darry’s got the kicked puppy look that Wayne hates even more. “Aw, shit, Wayne, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’s was being that loud. Just wanted to burn off some nerves, ya know, in a healthy, non-drug way.”

Wayne sighs. He can’t be mad at Darry for actually listenin’ to what he was sayin’ for once, even if he is bein’ loud enough to wake the dead. “Well, I suppose it is better than schneef.” He contains another sigh as Darry’s face lights up. A happy Darry is always difficult for Wayne.

“Come dance, good buddy.” His smile is the worst look of all. “Take a load off.”

“Hard no.”

“Aw, c’mon, Wayne,” Darry whines, his smile brighter than before. “Just one? For your good buddy so he doesn’t go back to hooverin’?”

Wayne’s eyes narrow at the innocent glint in Darry’s. He doesn’t trust that sonofa as far as he could throw ‘im. “Darry.”

“Wayne.”

This right here is why a happy Darry is difficult for Wayne. Faced with the full force of one of Darry’s smiles, Wayne is helpless. “…fine. But just one, then we go to bed.” The beam he is given is blinding.

Darry takes the cd out of the player and changes it for another he pulled out from an old, leather cd case. He pushes playing, cranking the music back up and pulling Wayne by the wrists over to his make-shift dance floor. He does that weird gyrating again while Wayne sticks to shifting his weight left and right, his hands in his pockets. The new music is good. Country. Maybe Kenny Chesney? He thinks so since the man’s singin’ about a woman findin’ his tractor sexy. Wayne tries to loosen his tightened limbs. Dancin’ makes him all kinds of uncomfortable. But Darry is doin’ that head tilted back, eyes closed, hips wigglin’ thing again, and Wayne can’t help but smile. That is until the song ends and a slow one starts.

Darry opens his eyes and meets Wayne’s. Wayne rolls his eyes and offers his hand. “I’m leadin’ this time. Step on my toes and I’ll deck ya.”

“That’s a Texas-sized 10-4,” Darry laughs and takes Wayne’s right hand with his left one, placing his right hand on Wayne’s left shoulder. Wayne’s free hand wraps around Darry’s back, trying to stay as high as possible. This wasn’t the first time they’d danced like this before. Wayne’s mom taught them how to dance back in grade school, before either of them had a sweetie. She took a lot of pictures of them, tellin’ them with a secret in her smile not to tell Wayne’s dad. Wayne idly wonders where she hid those pictures.

“Well, you had me from ‘hello,’” Darry sings under his breath, his forehead coming to rest on Wayne’s shoulder. “’I felt love start to grow the moment I looked into your eyes.’”

Wayne’s heart is poundin’ harder than when he and Darry had to run away from those shotgun-wielding de-gens from up country at the age of fourteen. Somethin’ about the song, the way Darry’s curls were ticklin’ his cheek, or the feel of their bodies so close together was gettin’ to him. He isn’t sure why he’s so affected, but he knows that what he’s feelin’ isn’t the usual way he feels around Darry. Darry lifts his head and meets Wayne’s eyes. His are soft, open in the way they usually are, but somehow more. Like Wayne’s seeing all the way into Darry’s soul. He’s afraid that Darry might be able to see into his too. He wonders what he might find if he looks harder. He thinks that he probably doesn’t want to know.

The music fades out again and another fast one plays, but he and Darry are stock-still, both staring at the other. Wayne startles, suddenly realizing what position he and Darry are still in, and quickly removes himself. “It’s late, Darry. Get to bed. Got chorin’ to do tomorrow.” His voice is deeper than usual, raspy like it only is after he smokes a pack of darts.

Darry clears his throat and nods, turnin’ quickly to switch off the boom box. Wayne leaves first, not waitin’ for Darry. He walks briskly to the house, whistlin’ for Stormy as he goes. He faintly hears Darry’s footfalls on the gravel behind him, but he doesn’t slow down. He can’t slow down. Somethin’ just happened between them and he does NOT want to talk about it. He clears the porch stairs in one step, hurrying to the door and bulling his way through it. He lets Stormy in and locks the door behind them, peakin’ through the blinds at the driveway to see Darry trudgin’ to his van. He stops at the driver’s side, glancing up at the door as if he could see Wayne through it. Wayne jumps back, cursing. A cough behind him has him jumping and cursing again, spinnin’ around to see Katy, clad in her pajamas and robe, standing arms folded on the stairs. He kicks off his shoes and nods at her.

“Causin’ a ruckus, Big Brother.”

“Sorry, Katy. Go back to bed.”

“Care to tell me what all that was about first?”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

She nods, a shrewd frown still furrowing her eyebrows. “10-4, Big Shoots.” She heads back up the stairs, Stormy on her heels. Dogs aren’t supposed to be allowed in the bed, but Katy doesn’t like to sleep alone, and she isn’t sharin’ it with anyone else right now.

Wayne watches her for a second ‘fore headin’ to the kitchen, grabbin’ the half-empty bottle of Gus ‘N Brew, and takin’ a Texas-sized swig. He tries desperately not to think about the 10-ply _thing_ that just happened, but he can’t stop seein’ Darry’s eyes. Darry’s lips. The way Darry’s hips move when he dances. He scrubs a hand down his face and groans. These are not thoughts that one should have about their good buddies. His whole body is still tinglin’ from where it was pressed against Darry’s. Wayne glances at the clock on the microwave, takin’ another swig from the bottle held tightly in his hand. 12:15. Way too late for him to still be awake. He sighs, knowing that tomorrow is goin’ to be rough for many reasons. Bottle still clutched in his hand, he stumbles his way out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into his bedroom.

He doesn’t bother undressin’, throwin’ himself on the bed, Gus ‘N Brew landin’ on the other pillow. It isn’t long before his eyes shut. He falls asleep to the sound of Darry singin’ and to the sensation of a calloused hand in his.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a longer piece for this fandom, but I got this little scene stuck in my head. It will be connected, but this will still be a standalone. This is my first work, so please comment and tell me what you think! Thank you for reading!


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